Red Heartstrings
by lullabywave
Summary: -Short- fic /drabble 1827 6927 Mukuro takes Tsuna's memories and keeps his body for himself, but a skylark still lurks inside Tsuna's secret heart of hearts.


1.

Drowning in a sea of sleep, Tsuna struggles to float to the surface. Wind touches his cheeks and brushes his eyelids. He sinks under, eyelids refusing to open. His heart flutters to life. There is a dull pain that refuses to wash away. Something is yanking on his heartstrings. His mind is lost in flurries of a headache. His head stops spinning. He patiently waits to ride the flood of memories, but no matter how long he waits the dam refuses to break. The riverbed is parchment dry. He knocks on that tall, crooked door, but it's locked. His bangs and shouts go unheard. Locked out without the key, Tsuna despairs. His eyes are wide and his sweat is cold when he is found.

There's a figure standing in the doorway. With thin wrists and ghost pale skin, he looks oddly familiar with the taste of summer fireworks and dango on his lips. The person returns his fevered stare. Tsuna's eyes fill with adrenaline. The extra work makes his heart ache more. Waves crashing over his head, the undertow threatens to whisk him away. The surface breaks and he gasps.

"Who are you?" he has trouble forming the words; he finds them, sticky, shrouded in thick night. He has trouble getting the words out of his mouth; they stick to his lips on the way out. His eyes are black, hooded weights. Tsuna's lungs are filled with salt water. They fight to function because the air is too heavy. The figure mouths something also.

"_Who are you?_"

Tsuna stares at the floor, his mind ripped in shreds. He picks up a piece of torn paper. It says something on it. The words are slippery like butter and they fall easily from his lips.

"Sawada Tsunayoshi," his eyes yank away from the mirror.

"Mukuro."

2.

"It's quite natural," Mukuro encourages. "Hibari does it all the time."

Tsuna gives a small nod as the strings wind tightly around his heart. His pulse flutters. Mukuro doesn't look like he notices.

"I'll do it for you the first time," he continues. His touch is ghostly light, his fingers like feathers, trailing a burning path down Tsuna's stomach. Mukuro's breath is fire hot at the nape of his neck. "You see, the more people you have, the more you can feel," Mukuro doesn't hesitate to unbuckle Tsuna's belt.

Tsuna intakes sharply from surprise as the feathers wrap around him. They're warm and the feeling is pleasant with the light wind playing on his face like a sleepy spring breeze. "It's, nice," Tsuna fights with his tongue as he forces the words from his lame mouth.

Mukuro looks amused. "You're so interesting."

3.

Time pushes and pulls, jerking him to the beat of the ocean. Everyday is full of pleasure. Though the strings are still wound tightly around his heart, these days he has learned how to float. Tsuna gasps for cool air instead of drowing. However, the waves would soon grow violent and plunge him under again. It starts with a cloudy day; mist curtains the town, touching everything.

Tsuna finds himself standing in the reception room. He finds its cooling darkness something familiar. It's like the taste of smoke and dango all over again; there is the sensation of being under a starry night sky, only the stars are invisible because the air is full of fireworks. Again, the tidal wave pulls him back out and the strings shift, biting into him. He turns to leave, but ends up crashing into someone. Their shoulders smash harshly and for a heartbeat they hold each other's eyes.

The wide-eyed stranger looks offbeat. He recovers so quickly Tsuna thinks there was nothing wrong in the first place. "What are you doing here?" he inquires. He smoothly exhales a question. The straightforward words ride on his breath. "_Where were you?_"

Tsuna feels a pang, a tug. It's so strong it hurts. He's hot and his vision is murky like looking through salt water; it's hard to breathe; throat is full of acid. "_I'm sorry, I knew you_," he runs out the door.

4.

The keys are in the door when he arrives; it's unlocked. Not bothering himself to knock, he immediately slides the door open. It is dark inside the reception room; it's after hours. He can't see anything at first, but then his eyes adjust.

The string that was wound so loosely around his heart tightens, a thin wire threatening to bite upon witnessing the two bodies tangled up in a mess of limbs, disheveled clothes, and matted hair. He slams the door, but he can still hear them going at it. Tsuna's voice pierces his chest, an arrow breaking the stone heart in two.

"How disappointing," Mukuro eyes glimmer like laughing moons.

5.

Hibari is resting on the roof. The air is peaceful, so Tsuna approaches him cautiously with cat-like steps, but Hibari notices anyway.

"Can I sit?" the words come easily; they float out of his lips and flutter in the air, like butterflies.

Hibari looks away. "No."

Tsuna plops down next to him anyway.

Hibari is silent, like a wall of cement and Tsuna speaks the same words. It stays like this until the tension catches and breaks.

"Kyoya," Tsuna says lightly. "This red string of fate that connects us, don't you think it's time to cut it?"


End file.
